


Life is Like a Hurricane

by hearmyvoice



Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), PKNA - Paperinik New Adventures
Genre: Donald Duck is the Duck Avenger, Family Secrets, Fictober, Fictober 2019, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Relationship Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Trans Donald Duck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-10-10 21:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20534645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearmyvoice/pseuds/hearmyvoice
Summary: A normal life? Please, that's impossible when you live in Duckburg. Especially when you're a McDuck-Duck family member, where abnormalities are around the corner.





	1. Donald & Gladstone, Gladstone & Donald

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1.  
Dichotomy.

Donald Duck and Gladstone Gander.

Gladstone Gander and Donald Duck.

Good and bad luck.

Bad and good luck.

Two young ducks that despite being born under the McDuck wing, did not have the best relationship. One stubborn, hot-tempered and hardworking and the other devil-may-care, lazy and dependent on their luck, their different perspectives on life did not exactly assure camaraderie despite the blood tie.

Della had acquired the role of mediator so that they would not hit each other and get into trouble with Grandma Duck.

Everything had changed when Donald and Della were orphaned at an early age. Not only had he seen his cousins less while they went through the five stages of grief, denying in their stubbornness that no one but Grandma saw them in that state, but that had worsened his cousin's anger issues. As the son who inherited mostly the anger of equally temperamental parents, discussions that ended in fights had become more constant despite the bruises and reprimands that both, especially Donald, received.

Gladstone believed that would end when, thanks to his many guerrillas, his cousins had moved in with Uncle Scrooge prior to entering class. He wasn't going to deny that he missed seeing them every day, and he was sure that it had been more difficult for Grandma than for him, but seeing each other during the summers they had maintained contact.

But being from the McDuck family also had its disadvantages.

As the nephew of the richest duck in the world and with a voice like his, especially with his identity issues, Donald was not allowed to have a good year at school. As the closest cousin of that duck, adding to his luck, Gladstone either. Della, who had taken the role of mediator for years, had also acquired the role of defender when it came to her family.

However, Donald was stubborn, and had been born with the same love to family than his sister's. When he saw that his cousin was disturbed, he took his role of the older duck seriously and lashed out at those who bothered him. With his luck they were usually discovered, but while claiming it was to defend Gladstone he could leave with a punishment without television for a few weeks.

Gladstone, on the other hand, was more peaceful. He simply had to get close and a vending machine could fail, they would give excellent food in the cafeteria, or simply a teacher would discover the abusers in fraganti.

Donald Duck and Gladstone Gander.

Gladstone Gander and Donald Duck.

Two young cousins who, despite their many differences and quarrels, had a considerable affection despite the pride and difficulty that each had to talk openly about their emotions.

It had always been that way, especially with Donald when he rejected on more than one occasion the opportunities Gladstone used for quality time.

Who would say that would vanish at the moment that Della disappeared and Donald locked himself in?


	2. Matter of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2.  
Ghost.

His parents.

Uno.

Lyla.

Mary Ann.

Xadhoom.

In one way or another, the tragedy seemed to haunt Donald like an angry ghost, like a soul in sorrow that had fun feeding on the people he mostly appreciated and entertained themselves with his suffering when they finally had no food to feed on.

Had he suffered? Of course. Despite his temper and how difficult it was to accept people in his precious personal space, even with his own family, he was not going to lie: they had all acquired his trust and affection in some way that even he could not explain.

But it had happened, and when he finally accepted it, fate was cruel and something happened. The Supernova, a deactivation, the follow-up of an order he did not know about and the distancing thanks to the Time Police when he announced the withdrawal of Paperinik. He was alone again.

The only person he had was Della Duck, that sister he had been carrying since they hatched from the same eggshell and had been fortunate enough to survive to laid on Friday the 13th, that sister with whom he had grown for more than 20 years and had sworn to protect as the older twin.

But she had also left him. She had left him to go in search of something she couldn't even reach, something as ridiculous as going to bring the stars to chicks that hadn't even broken the egg. She had left him despite his insistence that Jet, Turbo and Rebel didn't need the stars, but someone with whom to see them.

That their Uncle Scrooge would support her, and that he also build the Spear of Selene did nothing but spread salt on the wound.

A shiver ran through his body as he toured the marina, his trembling hands clenched tightly the bassinet in which three eggs lay. Donald had to stop for a moment to ensure for the tenth time the covers that covered them to prevent them from getting sick, though he did not know if that was biologically possible by being protected by the shell. Anyway, it didn't hurt to be safe while it was for the well-being of his nephews.

He sighed heavily when he see the helpless unhatched eggs again. Covered by red, blue and green blankets to differentiate them, the duck was not completely sure that he could take care of them. With his luck he could barely grow up alone, he will be barely able to have three nestlings. He could call Panchito and José, the only people he could trust now; Panch's nanny experiences with his cousins and Zé's with his nephews could help him.

But while he will not openly accept the love he had for them, he didn't have to worry. Thus, the ghost that played so much with him would not have new pawns to play with and feed on.

He wasn't sure how, but he would make it.

He would protect those children, so that they had stars to observe now that Della joined them.

He had already failed as an older brother, and though it was an addition to his list of endless failures, he would not fail as the guardian of those ducklings. Not even if it will cost him his life.

But first he would have to do something with his anger issues, and he already knew what.


	3. Maternal Hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3.  
Hate.

"Unca' Donald, Mommy didn't love us?"

Donald stopped rocking abruptly, startling the little ducklings sitting on his lap. He looked down to meet big eyes, shining with curiosity and signs of tears. Their beaks trembled at the possibility, fiddling with their pajamas of respective reddish, greenish and bluish tones, and the knot in the sailor's throat had formed enormously, making his hands tremble against the bodies of the triplets.

If they perceived it, they kept silent.

But he knew that sooner or later he would have to address the issue. Of course, he had made sure to tell them everything they needed to know about Della: what his twin sister was like, what she was like, how he had been growing up with her, Gladstone and Fethry, avoiding in the least mentioning her passion for adventures and consequently Scrooge. But that didn't mean it was easy.

But to think that she might not love her children, for not thinking of a stronger term? Not even kidding. Moreover, he didn't want to know where they could have heard that.

"Wha'? No, no. Boys, please don't think that again." He grabbed the five-year-olds gently and placed them in his arms, allowing them to feel his heart racing. Years of experience taking care of children had not prepared him psychologically for that moment. "Della loved you very much. I had never seen her so happy since she knew she would be a mother, she even used to show you off whenever she could."

The duck smiled wistfully, recalling how his sister basically yelled at the four winds that she would be a mother and sounded bugles, how deaf this had left him for days and how much he cried with her when she broke the news. Soon, she had forgotten that her boyfriend had abandoned her at the time she bought the pregnancy test and he accompanied her at all times.

"Then why did she abandon us?" Asked Dewey again. And honestly, that had been something he also wondered since he started living in the houseboat: _what had he done wrong?_ He had simply done what any uncle would do for the desire of a united family, _at what time had he been wrong for Della even considering going to space?_

Unfortunately, the discussions this had generated had not allowed him to know his sister's true intentions other than to bring the stars.

"I don't know, m'boy. I don't know, one day she just disappeared" he couldn't afford to excuse himself, he didn't consider himself capable of doing that to his—her—children.

Louie played with the button on his shirt nervously.

"Do you think we will meet her one day?"

Hope had peeked into the duck's voice, hiding his face in his uncle's chest. Donald allowed himself to smile tenderly about the innocence of the question.

Meet up with Della? He has waited for it for five long and painful years, but he could not transmit that insecurity to the triplets either.

"Someday, we will be a family again."


	4. Technology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4.  
Stone.

Donald was not exclusively someone skilled with technology unless it was a weapon or could be explained by an artificial intelligence. Unlike sailing, he was a novice on the subject in comparison to his nephews, who at seven years had taught him the basics of computing when he required to send a job application by mail.

That was essentially the reason why he was stunned when he turned on the small computer, for the screen had begun to show a bright green color that would surely have blinded him. He blinked multiple times, narrowing his eyes until his eyes got used to the powerful light, which had gradually reduced its intensity.

If this was a product of bad luck, it was not fun. If it was a computer failure while his nephews were in preschool, he wouldn't know what to do. If he had barely saved enough to buy it among the needs of four people, he would not know how much it would cost to save for a repair.

"What's up, Hero? Do you fear technology? Or is it an old friend?" A robotic voice came out through the speakers sarcastically, though the duck had not lit them at some time.

However, he could be more sure of facing Medusa because the sailor really stayed static, as if the gauntlet had really come into contact with his body.

He blinked again, incredulous, when a duck's face began to glimpse on the screen. He smiled smugly in a mocking gesture, though deep down he knew his emotions were equally mixed.

"U-Uno?" He stutter, his trembling voice being more unintelligible than usual. He could feel his hands trembling strongly, the huge lump in his throat and the unpleasant sensation of tears forming in his eyes.

"It's a really basic computer compared to the Tower system, but as soon as Master Ducklair reactivated me, I wanted to come to surprise you. But it wasn't easy to find you, you know?" The smile on the face of the AI had softened, recognizing the lonely and anxious state of his partner "I missed you too, Old Cape."

The duck's surprise finally subsided, reacting to the tears that began to bathe the feathers of his cheeks and traversed the edge of his beak. He began to laugh hoarsely, hugging the computer screen and turning Uno's mocking comments as ignored.

"Wow, it's been so long that I don't know where to start!" Sobbing, he wiped his tears with the sleeve of his shirt and faced the intelligence again.

"Well, you could start at the beginning and let me see Anxieties." He smiled again amused and turned off the computer to Donald's surprise, until the screen of his cellphone turned on again revealing Uno's jubilant face, which despite being able to enter the network, he preferred to hear it from his friend.

Meanwhile, he was more than happy to satisfy his partner.

That didn't mean he went back to his old ways, of course, having three mouths to feed. But hey, he had an old friend who could help him in his unstable life.


	5. Goodnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5.  
Fraternal.

Discovering Huey, Dewey, Louie or even Webby sleeping on the couch in the living room when he got home from work had become a routine for him. The hope of the children to receive him when he entered the mansion past midnight was greater than their fatigue, but inevitably the dream defeated them and Donald had to carry them to their respective beds, despite the bruises that appeared day by day in his body, before falling asleep on the sofa, removing only his tie and his jacket.

Every morning, he woke up with the same squared sheet over his body, which he left perfectly folded at the time of showering and preparing for a new day, being received by a large breakfast prepared by Mrs. B. and accompanying the kids until the moment of his departure arrived.

Therefore, entering the television room and seeing the four of them on that occasion, all accommodated in an uncomfortable way on the sofa was a great, but pleasant surprise. Huey rested his head on the armrest hugging Louie, who had settled against his brother's side and hugged him with a loose arm—having folded his sweatshirt to use it as a pillow. Huey's faithful guidebook had fallen beside the body of the youngest duckling.

On the other hand, Webby had settled on the backrest, drooling on Dewey's foot, who had curled up while babbled in dreams.

Donald smiled softly, going quickly and ignoring the pains of his body to the boys' room to take pillows and a blanket. He knew that the next morning they could wake up with body aches thanks to him, but that their dream was perhaps more delicate than his, and that moving them too much could wake them up.

Besides that his arms could not support the weight of four children after doing multiple missions and supporting his new job.

He returned to the TV room again, putting the bedding on the coffee table before gently taking Dewey's head and putting a pillow underneath.

Later he chose to load Webby, the easiest of all. He was paternally lulling her, removing the hair that had stuck to her face through the saliva, consecutively cleaning her face with the sleeve of his sack, to lay her down next to Dewey. The blue-clad duckling hugged the girl as soon as he laid her down, and Donald smiled sweetly.

Embracing his siblings was something his boy used to do when they were little and used to sleep with him. That he had the same confidence with Webby, even if he denied it as soon as morning dawned, said more than a thousand words.

He couldn't blame him either. In the months they had been in the mansion, he had learned to see the little duck as his child too, and how lovely it was to have four kids to care for.

But he shook his head. He had another child to clothe.

Unlike Webby and Dewey, it was not easy to accommodate Huey, especially with his brother clinging to him and vice versa; but fortunately he had already dealt with that situation on more than one occasion. After all, his nephews were five-years-old once, and they used to sleep everywhere when he was late from work.

Involuntarily, he had started humming a lullaby, the same lullaby that his mother used to sing to Della and him every night.

Sighing in relief when he managed to accommodate Huey again on the sofa and putting the pillow on his head, watching as he hugged Louie again making a face while Donald adjusted his sleeping cap while still humming.

Fortunately none of the four kicked at sleep, so they would be fine, he thought as he tucked them in the squared blanket and grinned slyly when they smiled at the heat provided.

He couldn't say that he doubt when he kissed their foreheads, including Webby's, smiling self-satisfied at the smiles that appeared on all four faces.

Needless to say, it was _not_ the first time that Scrooge was surprised to see the wee bairns sleeping in the living room instead of Donald?

Of course, there were not so many at the time.

But the same brotherly love was there.

"Donnie," she murmured as she yawned, snuggling affectionately against her sister's chest. Both had been very attached since their parents' funeral two years ago, as clinging to each other as any pair of seven-year-old twins while watching a video recorded by their grandparents late at night, in which they had compiled the misadventures of their mother, uncle and aunt. Hearing her buzz waiting for her response was the telltale to continue. "We will always be friends?"

She looked up when Donna snorted in amusement, shifting her position on the couch while still hugging her little sister.

"What kind of questions are those, Dumbella? Of course we will always be friends!" She tousled Della's already ruffled hair amused, laughing when she heard her reply and do the same with hers.

Keeping quiet when the smile on the duck's face vanished.

"It's just that... Mommy, Unca Scrooge and Auntie Matilda seemed to be the best friends in the world," she pointed to the screen, where Hortense and Scrooge threw a small cupcake on Matilda's face after wishing her a happy birthday, laughing happily, "but now... we barely know Unca Scrooge, Auntie Matilda barely talked about him when we were with our cousins, and when Grandma introduced us to him even she was insecure. I don't want us to be like this..."

At some point, her voice had broken, not realizing until she felt Donna's thumb gently wiping her tears.

"But we are not mommy, or Unkie Scrooge, or Auntie Matilda. We're Donna and Della Duck. And these Ducks don't back down. I'm sure that any problem that arose, we will be able to solve it."

Of course, it was no surprise to Della when her sister adopted that mature role for someone her age; although she used to boast about it, she knew that she could take her role as an older sister very seriously to the degree of not looking like a stubborn child with anger issues.

"Look at us now. If not because we have the other, who knows how we would take the fact of living on a farm one day and living in a mansion the next."

Della laughed sadly, wiping the rest of her tears with Donna's help.

"Maybe you're right." Donna shrugged nonchalantly, grinning in spite of fatigue, until she felt her younger sister's arms surround her in a warm hug that didn't take long until it was reciprocated. "You are the best sister in the world."

"I know," she had said proudly, laughing when Della struck her lightly on the arm until they continued to watch the recordings, embraced.

Involuntarily, Donna had started humming a lullaby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already had this, seriously. But I was wrong in some (many) details and had to correct them lmao.
> 
> And yeah, I used Daisy's first name as the Donald's first/female name.


	6. Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6.  
Ego.

He had heard the door open and close slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. Scrooge McDuck would have thought it might have worked had it not been because he was awake and allowing the muffled fireplace to camouflage him, stopping to stir his nutmeg tea to see Donald walk on tiptoe to the kitchen, holding a suitcase in each hand.

His photographic memory was perfect enough to remember that he only had one that morning when he went to work.

"Ah didnae knoo yer schedule made ye work until three in the morning," he speak in a harsh voice, seeing how the duck froze when he was about to open the respective door with his hip, Scrooge's sarcastic but severe tone sounding louder than expected in the absence of children running and playing in the mansion, "Ah shoold talk tae yer boss tae find oot what's going on; it is not a decent work environment tae overexploit its employees, and look what Ah say..."

He got up slowly. At each step, the sailor cringed in position. Always turning his back on the father that his uncle had become, listening to the thin rattle of a silver spoon against a cup.

"What's up, lad? Ah thought Ah had educated ye better than this." He stopped his hand on the adult's shoulder before he could even change his trajectory and climb the stairs. That this will remind him of his nephew's rebellious stage, he said nothing.

And Donald also when he thought of all his late arrivals at the mansion when he was a young rebel teenager.

"I'm sorry, I worked overtime and I'm tired. I would like to go to sleep... and I know that Duckworth constantly cleans my room so that a bed would not be bad..." his body had involuntarily tensed at the bad lie—it was no secret that in his ten years of absence, he had gotten used to a hammock over a royal bed, and occasionally on a float in the pool—, putting up resistance when the elder tried to see his face.

However, the exhaustion of his body was superior, _much more_ superior.

And he really felt in his teenage years when Scrooge saw the bruised eye and reddened cheek, keeping quiet when he heard him gasp.

"Who did this tae ye?!" He raised his voice involuntarily, taking the opposite face in his hands and softening his grip at the startled shock at the rubbing of the injured cheekbone.

"No one, Uncle Scrooge. They tried to steal me and I only defended myself." He escaped Scrooge's gaze, whispering distastefully and deep down trying to camouflage the grief at the irony of how the papers had been inadvertently reversed. "And lower your voice, you will wake up the boys."

Rolling his eyes when the older duck examined him, and he had to suppress the urge to rub the bridge of his beak by the blackened eye.

"I can go check this out if it makes you feel better, okay?" He tried to free himself from his uncle's iron grip, recognizing his efforts as futile when the old man did nothing but change it and direct it to his arm, strengthening it in the process, and feeling like this partially stopped the circulation.

Fortunately for the sailor, it was the untouched arm.

"Dinnae even think about it, boy-o. Knowing ye, ye will go tae rest and check 'em in the morning. We'll go check those blows now whether ye like it or not, and dinnae force me tae carry ye on me shoulder,” Scrooge said, his stern look saying a thousand words when he practically dragged his nephew to the upper floor, where he recognized having his kit first aid.

Meanwhile, Donald felt his cheeks burn when he recognized being treated like a child and feeling how he was shrinking at the orders of his uncle-slash-father, and somehow he could hear the laughter of Uno in his head.

Well, at least his superhero pride remained faultless. Because he had definitely not been humiliated by a minor criminal in the middle of the battle.


	7. Donald's Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7.  
Changing.

If Donald recognized that there was something more changing than his mood, he could easily say it was his job.

Either because of his temper, his clumsiness or because his boss discovered that he was familiar with the richest duck in the world, he had been disappointed for more than ten years to tell his nephews that he had been fired again.

He had hoped that would change now that the children were safer, somehow, with Uncle Scrooge. But ironically the dismissals, rejections, slamming of the face and kicking in the tail feathers remained, and he could even say that they had increased in quantity.

But he still learned to channel his anger. Though it was not easy, it should be contained so as not to destroy any establishment as it could have done not to go with Jones.

One day he could be a cook for a small place, another day he could be a gardener, another day he could walk dogs, another day he could be an accountant, another day he could attend a small cafeteria, another day he could be the guinea pig of any mad scientist. But they all ended the same way.

_You are fired._

_Fired!_

_Get out of here._

_We found someone better for the position._

Another day he could resume his non-salary job as a vigilante after eleven long years. Of that he did not complain, he had started it when he was seventeen, when he began to accept himself as _Donald_ and as a way of getting even against the world, at least until he began to save people; and he had been the best he was in being his own boss, and with the company of Uno two years later it had been more fun.

Another day he could resume his job as a secret agent. _Again_ (he still didn't understand the issue of memory reset). It had followed Paperinik as soon as he retired, and he had not lasted as long as they claimed in the Agency as soon as he returned, but these experiences had helped him more than he thought, even if it was involuntarily. Either with bullying or transphobic comments.

But that didn't mean he didn't keep looking. By not giving him a check, he had to see how to excuse his multiple daily departures, or every occasion when there was no planned adventure. Be it with Scrooge, the triplets, Webby, Mrs. B. or even with Duckworth.

The scars? That was the complicated thing. Withdrawing his shirt, he sighed when he saw himself in the mirror, a new scar changing his body. The feathers around his abdomen had been cut, allowing to see the fresh wound.

A chill went through his body when a breeze swept through it, granting a particular tingle.

A Double Duck mission had not worked out well, worthing himself with three jars of black coffee after a new one from Paperinik with Gizmoduck. Of course, his torso, abdomen and arms already had particular scars resulting from adventures or minor enemies, but they were indistinguishable unlike the current one and among the askew plumage.

He breathe roughly, finally closing the bathtub key. He accepted it, it wouldn't be easy, especially when the nearest first aid kit was his uncle's, but he could hide it.

He could replace the material used with the money he received in his different jobs. Though it will not be easy to excuse it when someone in the family, particularly Scrooge, noticed.

But he could hide it.

He has done it for almost twenty years, he could do it until his feathers grew back, which did not take long since it was not stress-induced molt. He could easily justify it with his bad luck.

Anyway, who would suspect that the unfortunate, malnourished and unemployed Donald Duck was a superhero and secret agent, and that he could do what was considered a good job?


	8. Sanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8.  
Breath.

Donald was still sure to hear the voice of Uno in his head, claiming him for not carrying the shield with him even when he had specified multiple times that the trip was merely relaxing, relying on AI to keep the city safe during his absence.

That is, he had already done it on more than one occasion when he was venturing or being the authority figure of four children.

"He's fine, buddy. Uno is the most capable artificial intelligence we know" forcing the voice, he made the watermelon face him. With his free hand, he stroked his cheek, simulating Mickey encouraging him. His fingers brushed the increased hair, and though it bothered him, he had more important things to concentrate on.

"It's the only artificial intelligence we know," he sighed, releasing the breath he didn't know he contained. The multiples _I told you_ were repeated with sneer in his thoughts, the mocking smile appearing.

He would recognize him. Even if he had forgotten the suitcase at the bus stop, and not carrying the X-Transformer, Uno could... know where he was and go for him...

"He could know I'm here! He literally knows where everyone is." He stammered in a thread of voice—sounding more feminine, pulling his messy hair desperately and ruffling it even more. "Is this a joke, Uno? Because it is not very funny!"

He grabbed the watermelon against his chest, beginning to scratch his hair in a vague attempt to groom him. Simulating that he was his old friend trying to comfort him, reassure him. Or maybe both.

"Is that why I told you the end of Anxieties? Do you want me to apologize?" He began to walk the island, feeling the warm sand against his webbed feet while still hugging Mickey.

It was only answered with the sound of the wind swarming against the palm leaves and slightly raising the sand, causing it to tickle his ankles. In turn, it made him even more desperate, and he had to suppress a shout to avoid giving up his location to the moonlanders, breathing heavily and feeling the metal again in his breath and tongue.

If it weren't because the apparent leader snatched Gyro's Oxy-Chews box, he would be delighting in the delicious taste of black licorice. Because to tell the truth, he didn't know at what point he had lost the ones he consumed when he landed on the Moon.

And the sandwiches and seawater smoothies were not very appetizing either.

"Uno's jokes were never like that. All this is like the history of the Evronians all over again, but without the adrenaline and coolness" he didn't care if his voice came out more scratchy than usual, or even if _Donna_ herself talked not even understanding himself. He swallowed nervously and looked at the melon, waiting for an answer that he knew would not come. "How much time has passed? Months?"

Tears gathered in his eyes, vainly trying to contain them and carving his eyes hard and regretting immediately when he felt the sand on the sleeves of his suit.

He did not wait at all to hear a sharp blow on the coast, being winded when his uncle's plane's tail peeked out, allowing a smile to form at his peak.

They had found him!


	9. Abandonment Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 9.  
Lycoris radiata.

Donald finely stroked the reddish petals, letting his finger play carefully with one of them, resting his cheekbone in his free hand and curling the beak in a grimace. He could feel the pain in his back when he was hunched so long, but he honestly couldn't care less.

He sighed heavily, looking through the small window of the door at the sky, the dull orange signaling the night time. Involuntarily, his gaze focused on the mansion; most of the lights were off except for the kitchen, which soon turned off too.

He could hardly believe that after so many months he was back in the manor, especially with his sister at his side. But he would lie if he said that was what made it hard for him to sleep, and he knew it. Since he began to see for his nephews, even when they did not hatch, he suffered from insomnia; but every time he closed his eyes he saw himself again on the island, trapped, with old wounds reopening due to the hard landing, immediately waking him up and forcing him to pull the sleeves and quickly unbutton his sleeping shirt, seeing the new scars.

He tenderly took the flower of hell and collapsed in the hammock sighing heavily. It had been more than a week since they saved the planet, and he still felt he was stranded.

Couldn't he be more pathetic?

"I don't know why it bothered me." And the fact that he discovered that his family believed he spent so much time on vacation didn't help his fragile esteem either, letting the undulating tepals tickle against his chin. "Before the children I was only Scrooge's cannon fodder, and now I am a loser who can barely keep up a job that doesn't involve agents and vigilantes, how could I be so naive and stupid to believe that they would look for me? I don't even know if the cruise told them that I didn't arrive."

He didn't care if he broke, or if he cursed out loud. He was alone and it was past midnight; besides his uncle, who else could be awake? _As if someone in that family would care so much to know how he was._

_Even Della had worried more about whether he met Penumbra. And though he certainly couldn't blame her after seeing her be electrocuted by her own general, it was insulting._

"This is like middle school again, you know?" He began to think out loud, as if Mickey or _someone else_ could hear him, "but without your best friends supporting you..."

Alone, with the ego—and the face—fractured, and with a depressive picture forming suddenly; he let the tears run down his cheeks and the edges of his beak, letting his mind visualize a scenario in which Della sat next to him and patted his back, or in which Scrooge allowed him to sit on his lap and cry in his shoulder.

_When had things altered so much?_

Since leaving the mansion? Since Della's interest in adventures excelled? He did not know, he did not know it. And it hurt, a lot. He had managed to hide it from the triplets for eleven years, but now that his sister was back and being the mother she always should have been, he felt free to let off steam.

"Only one person, or intelligence, would be able to support me at this time, but even he is not here."

And that was the worst: he didn't know anything about Uno since he came back. Not even on the Moon did he have the way to communicate with his partner. He had not carried his cellphone because of the policies of the cruise—as much as he would have liked it—and the radio had been destroyed as soon as he warned his family of the invasion though he knew that Uno could, in his words, intercept the transmission and find the point from which it left, giving its location.

That made him feel lonely despite being surrounded by his family and occasionally with Penumbra.

(This feeling of loneliness was what made him open his closet and put on the mask. One way or another, he wanted to feel loved, _useful._

Though it was not easy to evade the sensitivity of his injured right arm and left leg, it certainly was to evade the questions about it when it prevented him from facing the smallest criminals even with the help of Gizmoduck and Darkwing Duck, the new superhero inspired by a TV show.)

He sighed heavily when he returned to the houseboat, finding the lycoris radiata intact in his hammock and next to the shirt abruptly removed. He could swear that if it weren't because his sister surprised him some mornings now that she occasionally slept in the boat, he would have slept in his suit, but he had an identity to hide, a confidence he had to deny and a naive one to rest; to which he barely changed again, carving his eyes as he removed the mask to avoid falling asleep.

Then he put the plant next to him on the pillow, keeping the suit in the back of the closet. He would find a way to wash it later, now he was really exhausted and sore to even think.

He let the dream succumb to him the moment his head touched the pillow, sleeping soundly at the moment the last light of the mansion ran out.

(Being surprised in the morning when an excellently cooked breakfast waited for him in the dining room of the houseboat, while the lycoris had been deposited in a small vase in the center of the table next to a small television, where a soap opera was playing. )


	10. Are u okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 10.  
Perturbed.

If they had told Donald that when he returned to the mansion he would be in the same room as his sister, having lunch in the dining room in the company of his uncle and four lovely ducklings, he would surely have mocked that positivism.

And surely now he would be more than sorry.

Of course, he practically devoured his food, delighted to completely remove the taste and texture of the sand and seawater from his mouth—which still remained days after the invasion, having completely exhausted a toothpaste tube, despite the insistence of his uncle in which he could choke if he kept eating like this, feeling involuntarily like a duckling again.

The only thing that had managed to satisfy this flavor was the breakfast that appeared days before in his dining room while watching Anxieties and other cheap soap operas of yesteryear.

At his side, the triplets had begun a food war with Della, causing food to fly and some will land on his face and clothes, but he was currently so focused on eating and that his boys—hers—will spend quality time with her that he was not in the mood to complain.

Webby, on the other hand, occasionally joined the battle when some food fell near her, throwing it with a war cry that startled the poor victim.

But at that moment, a knock at the door, exactly three, was heard, taking the Duck family off guard.

The vacuum stopped listening, indicating that Beakley would attend.

"Were they waiting for someone?" Asked Scrooge, lowering his cup of tea, confused. He knew that the circle of acquaintances of his nephews and nieces was relatively small outside the manor, but he was always advised when they would take a guest.

Everyone slowly denied, Donald even stopping eating and cleaning his beak.

"Penny isn't usually as polite, or silent," Della said, as strange as her uncle and dodging the beige mass thrown at her. "Besides, Launchpad said they would go out for coffee and continue to show her the city, or something like that."

"Lena and Violet left the city last weekend, their dads wanted to take a small vacation to celebrate the victory over the invasion. Don't come back until tomorrow." Webby removed a pea from her hair, lazily throwing it at Dewey.

"The meetings of the Junior Woodchucks are usually outdoors, and we didn't have any scheduled for today," Huey said, pulling out her neat guidebook from the food-stained cap and leafing through it, analyzing the organized dates of the next meetings of the young explorers. In the neighboring chair, Louie simply shrugged as he ate absently, staring at the screen of his cellphone and attending the improvised war of his brothers.

But before Donald could assure that José and Panchito would previously notify him of a visit—after a surprise visit not only postponed an adventure, but also cost his uncle's foyer—Beakley leaned out the dining room door.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. McDuck, but one such _professor_ Lairduck is looking for Donald," she said, anticipating that uncertainty would appear under the monotony of her voice, though her arched eyebrow showed otherwise.

Thus, six eyes, showing different levels of inquisition, will focus on the sailor, who only missed himself even more.

_Professor Lairduck? Well, he was not as harebrained as he wanted to believe, but he was almost certain he had heard that false name more than eleven years ago, but it was to refer to a tacit subject. And Everett, who was unaware of the supposed surname, was still in Tibet doing who-knows-what._

_And he certainly didn't remember giving up the information that he now lived in the richest duck in the world's mansion to Everett's daughters, adding the fact that he avoided appearing on newscasts that involved his family._

_In addition, who recognized only had used this identity was..._

With that doubt in mind he finished wiping his beak with a napkin and got up walking, with some hesitation, to the front door when Mrs. B. told him that they had offered to wait outside, trying not to look rushed when he continued to feel the looks of his family on him, peeking out the door frame. Damn it, he could even feel his uncle's, wanting to know about that subject and why he had never mentioned they in his not-so-limited circle of friends.

Because if it was true that he made some friends when he ventured alongside Della and Scrooge, some currently famous as the Mouse couple, the aforementioned Lairduck had never been introduced.

Della surely looked excited to meet what a new friend of her brother might be, but Donald couldn't hurry, at least not yet.

And he was sure that, if true, and knowing the background, he would be roasted duck.

(In fact, he himself hesitated when his hand was inches from touching the doorknob, so insecure and confused that he surely missed his family even more in the case of someone he _supposedly_ knew).

He thought of peering through the peephole, but having his family's gaze on him installing some pressure, he opened the door.

Well, there was a car parked at the entrance. It seemed to have great value compared to his station wagon, and though he didn't know much about the modern motoring—despite the technological advancement of his tools at the Agency, he was sure that the vehicle in front of him was electric; he could remember them perfectly from the occasions when he was traveling to the 23rd century, though they were not as common as flying cars.

Next to him was... a duck he had never seen. He had the characteristic white plumage and a pair of whiskers that reminded him of Uncle Scrooge's, and the elegant jet hair stood out particularly.

Green eyes widened when they focused on him, and the sailor was even more surprised at the radiant smile that formed on the opposite face.

"Donald!" But despite the almost robotic movements, he felt the opposite arms surround him, hands stopping and fervently clenching his shoulders, as if it were familiar. "I heard what happened, are you alright?"

Over the thick Italian accent, the timbre of a disturbed voice that was known by the duck resonated. Anyway, he could not concentrate on the hands that analyzed each section of his face, and he did not know if it was because he wanted to check the presence of wounds, or if he was being investigated.

That a stranger showed up at his uncle's porch, speaking to him as if he knew him, was not his ideal for a quiet day. And listening to the children murmur behind him, the low volume making him unable to decipher what they were saying, did not help him much either.

"Hey! What's the big idea?" Therefore, he don't hesitate to hold the wrists with some might, pulling them away when they began to check their beak.

Staying inexplicably quiet when those bright eyes watched him with surprise. Certainly his training as Double Duck, particularly the area of logic, had taught him to be more analytical and deductive—though he will ensure that it only increased his migraine, but he certainly did not have an area to analyze and deduce at that time.

"So unrecognizable am I, Don? Or is it some revenge?" He had smiled mockingly, proud of having discovered the sailor's joke. Until he perceived his frown still frowned, and how Donald scrutinized him much more before the fact of _someone_ knowing his name and also referring to him with a pet name as if they had known each other for a lifetime, flagrantly erasing his smug smile and forming a one expressing nervousness. "Come on, Hero, I know I was wrong to not realize that you were on that island, but it is also not to pretend that you do not recognize me when I literally just added beautiful hair."

His voice had been reduced to a whisper, and he practically wasted worry and fear by strengthening the European accent, his hands beginning to tremble under Donald's grip whose eyes finally expanded in surprise, threatening to leave his basins.

Well, never mind. Yes it was a harebrained.

He paused to analyze the duck's features in front of him in greater detail. He certainly had a faint resemblance to Everett, and a frighteningly big one with Odin—he would have to check it out the next time he will travel to the 23rd century, even if he had to take Gyro's time tub that Louie had told him about, not having Lyla.

However, the smile that showed on that peak was recognizable. He didn't know how, or why, but the image of that smile had been etched in his mind for more than fifteen years, a year after he started working next to...

"Uno?" His voice was trembling, disturbed by the way that face shone bright again.

_How the hell was it possible...?_

"In flesh and blood," he joked, avoiding not laughing at his friend's dumbfounded expression. Not a few seconds passed before his smile vanished, leaving an embarrassed face that Donald did not believe was possible.

This emotion was something new for him, and given his partner's expression he seemed to understand it without words.

"I know I should have talked to you as soon as the invasion passed. I know you wanted to help more than you probably did," he whispered. Though it wasn't exactly the inside, he had seen the golden ship on his radar, as well as Donald coming down from it with his family—not glimpsing Della—when everything was over, "but I didn't know how. I was so focused building this body to surprise you that I didn't know about everything you've been through."

And certainly the absence of satellites had denied him the possibility of locating his friend when the invasion began, seeming to have vanished to a place where technology was nonexistent. Then he would talk about it with him.

But the sailor was so stunned by the fact that that presumed intelligence will accept that he made a mistake and that he also apologized for it he did not perceive the ducklings that made a beeline towards him, closely followed by Della and Scrooge.

The conversation had decreased so much in volume without them realizing that he had missed the family.

"Uncle Donald, who is he?" Whispered a shy Huey, involuntarily startling both adults thus creating a chain reaction when this also startled the four children.

Uno stared at the family, disturbed to recognize a duck that was identical to his partner.

(He knew her from the stories Donald told him about the adventures they used to take with Scrooge when he was not Paperinik and entered the Ducklair Tower, very injured for a young adult of nineteen who barely suffered serious injuries risking his life _playing_ the superhero. He had assured him that knowing her, which was more than impossible—until now, he would not take much to recognize that they were family.

Now he understood why. They were devilishly identical!).

"I'd like to know that too, lad." Until his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Scrooge's question, who frowned annoyedly. He wasn't a fool, and his memory was perfect enough to remember the time when he had the Tower in his name, and it certainly wasn't in the name of any _Lairduck_.

Of course, he hoped that something would change during the ten years of estrangement, but he simply did not want to accept the mystery that his boy was now involuntarily.

Uno laughed nervously, massaging his neck.

"Looks like I arrived at a bad time. I'm Professor Emil Ducklair, it's nice to meet you Mr. McDuck" if Donald noticed the way he stood up, the tension in his voice and the fake smile, he kept quiet "I met your nephew when he worked at the Tower every summer, at least until I moved to Tibet and we became correspondence friends; I returned a few days ago to the city."

And for an intelligence programmed to do what he thought was right, the duck was really impressed with the ease and fluidity with which Un... _Emil_ lied, as if he understood without need of words how important it was for him to keep the secret of Paperinik. Or as if it was what he has really done in his _life_.

(What would have worked 100% if his uncle did not know the origin of the last name _Lairduck_)

"And why did we never hear from you?" Della inquired with interest, leaning nonchalantly on her brother's shoulder. "No offense, but with how much talkative Donnie is, we know as much about his friends as he does."

At the comment, Donald buffed, inadvertently moving away from his twin, knocking the duck down on the floor. Moment before which the android allowed himself to smile slyly.

"Our family is really discreet." Well, that wasn't quite a lie.

Donald cleared his throat, clearly wanting to change the topic of conversation.

"You could tell me that you had returned, you would have avoided this strange presentation," he teased, smiling nervously as he stroked Dewey's head. "I would like to introduce you to my family. Well, you know my Uncle Scrooge; the headache that is next to me is my sister, Della."

He voluntarily ignored the blow that his twin hit in his arm—thanking that it was less sensitive—in favor of maintaining the facade, smiling so little that the edges of his beak barely curved.

"And they are my nephews: Huey, Dewey and Louie." However, his face lit up when he introduced his nephews, pointing to each one so he could distinguish them.

Uno could recognize the love of a true parent, camouflaged under the callsign of _nephews_.

The ducklings introduced themselves strangely, Huey—the red-clad one and the cap—being the only one who shook his hand despite his confusion.

"I'm Webby!" Suddenly, the _professor's_ field of vision was invaded when the bright smile of a lovely little girl appeared on his partner's shoulder (since when does Donald have a daughter? As he recognized he had only three nephews).

However, Uno smiled warmly watching as he held her so she wouldn't slip, and shook the little hand of the little duck.

"It's nice to meet you, Webby," he murmured, not commenting at the fond smile on the sailor's face as he readjusted his coat. "I would like to stay a few minutes, but I think it would be rude of me after my unnoticed visit. Do you think if we talk later, Donald?"

"Sure." Smiling broadly, the aforementioned lowered the girl again, ruffling her hair. And even if he didn't say it explicitly, both Uno and he knew they had a lot to talk about and a lot of questions to answer. "In the same place as always?"

"Count on it," he said, and Donald acknowledged his partner against crime's sincere smile. "See you soon Don, Mr. McDuck. It was nice meeting you Webby, kids."

And making a gesture, _Emil_ went down the main stairs at a rapid pace, humming without realizing the main theme of Anxieties when he heard the door close behind him.

However, and on the other hand, the family could not solve why Donald was happier and more lively than usual when Emil left McDuck household, missing even the triplets having lived a decade with someone who smiled like that when he expressed how proud he was of them.

The only answer obtained? _He is an old friend who had not seen for ten years._


End file.
